


Through the Abyss

by JayWrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Loki Angst, M/M, Smut, sexy fun times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWrites/pseuds/JayWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After flinging himself into the abyss in a failed suicide attempt, Loki finds himself in a strange, unheard of world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After the Fall

Loki fell. The last image he saw was of his father and brother calling after him from the jagged edge of the destroyed Bifrost. Soon this image was engulfed by the darkness of the abyss. He didn’t know how long he had been falling. Had it been mere seconds or hours? Had a day passed or millennia?  

The never-ending drop caused a horrible curling in his stomach. It was that sick feeling that came with not knowing when he would hit solid ground. More than once Loki reached out into the air in hopes of grabbing something to deter his descent but, of course, found nothing. He wondered if the inevitable pain would be worse than what he was suffering now. His body felt as if it was being torn apart. As if pieces of him were drifting into endless chasms.

Perhaps the only thing worse than that sickening unknowing was the silence. He yelled once or twice but the darkness quickly swallowed up the sounds. He was alone. Only his thoughts kept him company. Innumerable arguments with his father and brother plagued his mind. “Loki, this is madness,” his brother would say repeatedly between hits and punches. “No, Loki,” his father said as he applauded Thor yet again. If he didn’t suffer with these images then it was his mother’s worried countenance haunting him. No. It wasn’t worry. It was disappointment. No, not that either. Hatred! He wasn’t her real son. He was a monster thrust upon her and her world.

“They’re glad you’re gone,” a voice opined in his head. “They’re all glad. They’re probably celebrating.” Loki screamed for the voice to be silent but the darkness only silenced him instead. The voice laughed at him. It mocked him, “Thor sits on the throne now. As he always was meant to. He’ll destroy the Nine with his brashness and you’ll still be falling to a slow death!”

“No!” His hands still grasped at the surrounding air; that hope of finding something to stall him was strong.

The voice laughed again. “You should have been king! Yet you were a coward! They’ll sing neither dirges nor hymns about you! They’ll cheer your death!”

“Leave me alone,” Loki called out to nothing. But the voice wouldn’t stop. It continued to taunt him as well as the constant images of his estranged family. Even worse, between this torture Loki would glimpse images of happier times: Frigga applauding him when he properly learned a spell, having a drink with Thor and his friends after a glorious battle, the many men and women he bedded, and Odin’s pleased grin when he finally completed his combat training (after failing numerous times). Just when he allowed himself some comfort in these memories the unhappy ones returned—that mocking voice in tow—to remind him of his current misery.

On and on it went like this. It was maddening!

Soon he stopped fighting it. (Resistance only made his pain worse.) He had become resigned to his fate. After all, he chose this slow, languishing death. No doubt his father would have shown him mercy. He probably would have been forgiven. Or maybe not. Maybe they would have bound his powers and locked him in the dungeon with the other derelicts. There was no use thinking about the “maybes” or “would’ves” now. He closed his eyes and prepared for the inevitable.

Just when it seemed he had grown accustomed to the feeling of his body being ripped apart; the ever present flipping in the pit of his stomach; and the engulfing silence being mocked by his internal struggles, he hit solid ground. A sharp pain shot through his body. Everything hurt—even his toenails and hair. He blinked his eyes opened and winced at the bright light of the sun shining in them. He shut and reopened them again slowly. Once he readjusted to the brightness of the white sun, he noticed the sky held a purplish hue. That gave him some indication of what time of day it was: dusk. No doubt the sun would be setting soon and it would be wise to try to find shelter for the night.

He groaned as he tried to rise but his actions only worsened his aches. He started to call out for help but then stopped short. He wasn’t sure where he was. Neither was he certain if the inhabitants were friendly or not. They might not take kindly to strangers—even one that posed no physical threat.

By the gods, he missed the abyss! At least he knew what to expect there. Lying on the dirty ground, defenseless—wait! He wasn’t defenseless. He had his magic. _Loki, you fool!_

All he had to do was focus enough of his remaining strength to create a clone. One that could be his eyes and ears. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted doing so. His chest felt as if the weight of a thousand bilgesnipes were sitting on it. He coughed and wheezed as he exhaled. He tried to wiggle his hands and fingers but the gentle movement proved difficult. His body felt as heavy as stone. It took all his strength to barely lift a finger but he had to try. He couldn’t just remain wherever he was exposed to the elements or whatever creatures might lurk.

Loki cursed to himself as he (foolishly) took another inhale before making rapid small circles with his index. An uneasy smile grew on his thin lips as a flash of green light appeared but swiftly vanished. He repeated the action but this time added a second finger. Another quickly disappearing flash. He moved on to his third and fourth fingers. This proved much more fruitful for the fallen god. This time a face appeared for a moment before dispersing as well.

“Damn,” he whispered before resting his hand back against the ground. What little energy he had managed to incur seemed to leave him as quickly as his magical manifestations had. He took smalls breaths—which were more comfortable for his currently weak lungs—and tried again. This time a full clone appeared above him. Success! The cloned looked down at him and tilted his head to one side as he examined Loki. Without speaking a word, Loki commanded him to inspect the environment instead.

Through the clone’s eyes, Loki surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be in some sort of desert or even a wasteland. Brown dirt surrounded him on every side. On his right, in the distance, there were mountains; on his left were more of the same. Behind him sat an unpromising horizon and ahead there were… people! Normally the clone would be able to fight for him but in his weakened state Loki wasn’t sure if he could even manifest weapons. Damn it all! Loki _had_ to try.

The clone took his fighting stance. As the crowd drew closer he could make out their forms. They were women. The revelation didn’t assuage Loki’s trepidation any. He fought against warrior women many a time. There was always some fool who underestimated them due to their sex only to have their life cut short by a swift blade to the neck or gut. He had also fought alongside Sif numerous times. She was one of Asgard’s greatest assets. She had probably subdued more enemies than most of her male counterparts. No. Loki would be no fool. He would not take his chances against this foreign incoming crowd.

If he could conjure up a few throwing knives he would be able to properly defend himself. Loki concentrated. He divided his attention between his watchful clone and the low current of magic flowing through him. He tried to remember the weight and feel of his beloved weapons. Through the clone he could feel the dagger in his hand. The crowd grew closer and closer. The clone counted the people. There were at least ten. Could he take on ten? Two, three maybe. But ten?

Time was winding down for decisions. It was fight or be defeated. The clone prepared for battle. Loki’s heart raced as he watched the scene through his clone’s eyes. He heard the women speak in an unknown tongue. “I am Loki of Asgard,” the clone warned. “Speak your peace!” One woman stepped forward and answered in her language. “I do not understand. Be you friend or foe?”

She continued walking towards the clone. This was it. The true test of Loki’s current strength. He closed his eyes and tried to focus all of his remaining energy on his clone but he could feel it waning. The woman held up her hand and the clone quickly raised his dagger in defense only for it to slowly vanish as he brought it down. No, no, no. This was not good. The clone tried to grab the woman’s wrist but the moment he touched her skin he, too, started to fade. Loki tried to quickly conjure up another one but the first took the last of his remaining energy. Now he laid broken and powerless. He was at the mercy of these women. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

He rested against the dusty land, once again resigned to his fate. It seemed this was the new Loki. The cunning Silvertongue—that magical braggart—had now been replaced by this… this… weakling! He was no better than the mortals on Midgard.

The woman who had approached his clone earlier leaned over him. Her face blocked out the shining sun; her features were much clearer now. Her eyes were a deep green color, her olive skin was freckled, and her auburn hair was pulled back making the heart shape of her face more pronounced. If this was a different situation, Loki would find himself in the midst of seducing her. She touched the side of his neck and called back to her people. Her touch sent a small tingle through him. It was nice to feel something besides pain for a moment.

Suddenly, Loki heard the sound of rushing feet and a flurry of conversation followed by a creaking noise. He barely had time to register the sounds when multiple hands grabbed him and hoisted him onto a cart. The cart held strange fruit and vegetables—a couple of them fell over onto him causing him to yelp out at the added discomfort. There was more conversation before finally another woman—this one had mahogany skin, short curly hair, and light brown eyes—leaned over and asked, “Are you all right?” Loki wasn’t sure he heard her at first so he blinked his confusion. “Can you hear me? Are you all right? You fell from the sky.”

“No,” he finally responded weakly. “I fell from the sky.”

The woman made a face at his curtness before turning to the first woman and speaking to her in her foreign language. Then he saw a strange round purple fruit pass before him followed by a thumping noise. “You must eat,” the second woman said to Loki now. “The lauva fruit will help with the pain.” Before he could protest he felt her cradle his head in her arms and pour the liquid down his mouth. He coughed at the bitter flavor but continued drinking it. (He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was.) “You rest now,” the second woman said as she wiped his mouth with a cloth.

“But—”

“No. Rest. Questions will be answered later.”

\------------

The ride was long and rough. Loki groaned each time the cart hit a bump but resting in the arms of a beautiful woman helped soothe him some. The entire ordeal he suffered left him tired but he was wary of giving into it. Despite their actions, he still wasn’t sure if the women were friendly or not. They could be cannibals waiting to season and cook him for the night’s dinner. Or maybe they would imprison him for some nefarious purpose. He had foolishly introduced himself earlier; maybe they would ransom him off to the highest bidder. (Asgard had so many enemies, after all.) He wondered briefly what the going rate was for a disgraced prince.

“We’re almost there,” the woman holding him said softly. He smiled weakly in reply but his mind raced with non-stop scenarios of what awaited him. The cart suddenly came to a jolting halt. The brilliant sun still hung in the purple sky but to the left of it he saw a large building. He could only momentarily take in tall, brick palace before the image was blocked out by various faces. Hands grabbed him again. Followed by more voices and noise. He was placed on a cold table of sorts and swiftly pushed down a long corridor. The gentle thumps of the wheels against the pavement aggravated him and he made his discomfort known in groans.

“Careful now! Careful,” a male voice called out. Yet it seemed no one was willing to listen to him. More bumps accompanied the long trek to wherever he was being taken.

 _By the gods_ , Loki thought, _I would give all the riches in Asgard for this misery to end!_ Luckily it didn’t come to that. He felt another jerking stop before a voice, the same one from before, said, “To the right, you fools! To the right!”

Loki could only see the designed ceiling of the corridor, then a threshold, followed by different ceiling.  There was more indecipherable conversation before he was lifted off the hard surface and placed on a soft one—a bed. No bed in all of Asgard felt as plush as the one he laid upon. It was so comfortable, in fact, that he found himself almost giving into his earlier weariness. He closed his eyes and was about to succumb to a deep slumber when he felt more hands on him. He promptly reopened his eyes and saw this time he was surround by crowd of women. These were different from the ones in the desert. They were much older. Most of them were already silver haired and a few wore wrinkles around the corners of their eyes and mouths. They talked amongst themselves as they quickly stripped him. One elderly woman grabbed his face and rotated it from one side to another—paying absolutely no mind to the further distress she caused him. She then called for something in a tongue different from the peculiar ones of the desert women.

“We make you well, yes,” the elderly woman said to him. He opened his mouth to respond but found his throat sore and dry again. She brought a glass of something to his lips and as soon as the bitter flavor hit his tongue he knew it was that cursed lauva juice. Yet still, like before, he greedily swallowed it all. He was in mid-sip of his second glass when the woman turned her head to a corner of the room and started yelling at someone. She placed the glass back on the table next to the bed and a second later Loki felt a wet, warm cloth on his chest. Then he felt another on his legs and arms. The women quietly cleaned him from head to toe. He was given another glass of that bitter juice before being redressed in a silken tunic. “You rest now. We return.”

And just like that Loki was alone again.

He wanted to survey his surroundings but each turn of his head was torture.  He tried to conjure up a clone again but his power had again failed him. So here he was. The would-be king of a formidable realm lying exposed in an unknown land. He supposed he should make the best of it. At least until he got his strength up. Then he could not only explore the strange country but also formulate a plan. Now that he knew what lie beyond the abyss how could he possibly do anything else but take advantage of this knowledge? Would he return to Asgard or visit the many other realms that existed? The world—the universe—was literally open to him. A pleased smile slowly etched on his face. So many possibilities. For now, though, he would do as his nurse commanded and rest.


	2. To Heal & To Conquer

Loki slept for what seemed like eons. Every now and then, though, he would be awakened so that his elderly nurses could feed him more of that bitter juice before drifting back into a deep slumber. His sleep was often haunted by images of his estranged family. Rather, he was haunted by one specific dream. In it he was drowning in a deep, dark ocean that was actually Thor’s long cast shadow. Far above him, his parents watched him struggle and sink beneath the black waters. He would kick and fight at the waves; and on his resurface he would call out to them for help. This is where the dream often differed. Sometimes his father would extend a hand but he would say, “No, Loki,” and retracted it right before Loki grabbed it. Other times his dear mother would offer to help but whenever their hands met Loki’s skin would turn blue. His mother would gasp and freeze solid under his Jotun touch before falling with him underneath the waves.

His most recurring visitor, however, was his brother. The dream began as it always had. It was a sunny day and Loki walked through one of the many Asgardian gardens. Suddenly darkness crept over the land. “Brother,” Thor’s deep baritone rang out above him. Loki looked up and saw a giant Thor basking in the sun. Before Loki could speak, the solid ground liquefied and he began to sink. When he called out for help, another Thor suddenly appeared then outstretched his arms and said, “Here, brother!” Loki desperately grabbed onto them and just as he pulled himself nearly completely out of the waters, Thor’s face twisted into an evil sneer. “Here, brother,” he hissed before tossing Loki back into the darkness. Back into that long, slow pulling of the waters. No. Not the waters, the abyss! Loki kicked and fought against the descent but to no avail. No matter how far he fell, he could still see his brother’s leering face and hear his mocking laughter.

“No,” Loki yelled as he sprung awake from his fitful sleep. He panted as his eyes darted around the room. Sweat clung to his forehead and chest. He licked his dry lips and took long, slow breaths. He was alive. Sore and weak, yes, but, by the gods, alive! He didn’t drown and he survived the abyss. He was always a defiant one!  

He sat up in the bed for a moment until his breathing and heart rate slowed to normal. He heard conversation and glanced in the direction the sound came from. There on the left of the room sat a balcony. After lying in his bed for gods know how long he needed some fresh air. Also, a walk—no matter how short—would be a good way to test his physical strength.

Loki’s body ached as he kicked his legs over the side of the bed. He rose with a grunt—his back and chest caused the most pain—and slowly shuffled towards the large balcony. He winced and held up a hand to block the brilliant sun from shining down into his eyes. After taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, he finally lowered his hand but that small action—as well as the trek from the bed—proved exhausting. He was nowhere near in good enough shaped as he hoped he would be. He rested against the balcony railing and looked out at the environment.

The sky was the same purplish color as when he first arrived however many days (or months) ago. The mountains and desert hung far in the horizon; before that sat a paradise that nearly rivaled that of his beloved Asgard. Gardens of lush green grass and bold multicolored flowers caught his eye. Tall, leafy trees were being attended to by workers. (Loki found himself with a bizarre, childlike urge to climb them.) A statue of a female warrior posed in a winning stance sat in the middle of the garden. He could hear children’s laughter coming from somewhere out of view. He inched over the rail a little to better hear it. When he did, a young, pale skinned girl caught his eye. She was standing on her toes trying to pick a fruit from one of the trees. A tall, tanned man walked up behind her and picked the fruit for her. Even from the distance Loki could see her blush as she—he assumed—thanked the man. The man bowed in reply and returned to his work. The girl tucked a strand of her long black hair behind an ear as she walked away nibbling on the fruit. In spite of himself, Loki smiled at the image.

“My lord,” a shocked voiced exclaimed from behind him. “You’re awake!” Loki turned and saw a woman. She was not as young as the warrior women that greeted him when he first fell; yet she wasn’t as old as his nurses either. She fell in that large gap between the age frames. Loki was never good at guessing mortals ages (if that even what she was). Her hair was blonde and cut into a bob; her skin was a rich chestnut color. She wore a floor length blue dress but it was fitted well enough to display her round, full hips. She held a tray of food in her hands. Loki wasn’t sure what looked more delicious: the aliments or her.

“I am,” he replied as he took a step towards the columns that separated the balcony from the rest of the room and leaned against one.

“It’s… it’s a miracle!”

“How so?”

“Well, you-you fell from the sky, my lord,” she remarked. “That alone should have killed you and—forgive me for saying this—we thought you would never awaken.”

Loki exhaled a dry chuckle and murmured, “I shall forever be underestimated, I suppose.”

“Excuse me, my lord?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. He pointed to the tray in her hand. “What do you have there?”

“Oh! Breakfast!” She placed the tray on the tabled a few feet away from him.

“Breakfast?” Loki looked back at the sky. What strange land hand he fallen into that yielded a purple morning sky? A gentle tug on his wrist brought his attention back to the room.

“Come, my lord,” the woman said. “Sit and eat.” He allowed her to guide him to the table. She unfolded a napkin and gently placed it on his lap. He half listened as she explained the various foods before him; his focus was mainly on her. He watched her plump lips move as she spoke. When her pink tongue darted once or twice out to wet them, Loki’s mind filled with images of her dragging it across his skin or capturing it between his lips. He could envision it licking up and down his shaft as she sucked on him. If he had his full energy he would seduce her until his fantasy became reality. But, alas, he had none. Just chewing the meal wore the last of his energy out. After breakfast, he returned to bed and slept until the woman returned for lunch.

They exchanged no words as she fed him and dabbed the remaining food off the corner of his mouth. Then he again slept until dinner when she, once again, returned. It went on like this for many more days. Loki would shoot awake from some version of an awful dream—rarely did he sleep peacefully—and walk out to his balcony. He could feel his body slowly begin to heal. The persistent pain in his back and chest began to ease until he could stand for long periods without feeling winded. Soon his full energy returned and with it came that stream of power that fueled his magic. Ever the one for mischief, he would test his reemerging gift on the poor women who attended him. His first victim was, of course, the lovely woman who brought him his meals.

When she brought him breakfast he offered his juice to her. She thanked him and remarked that she had been rather parched due to the increasingly warm weather. As soon as she brought the cup to her lips a wicked little smile grew on his. With a gentle wave of his hand he turned the juice into snakes. She yelled as she jumped up from her chair and threw the cup across the room. Loki, meanwhile, held his stomach in raucous laughter.

His mirth grew as she shrieked and hopped on the bed when the snakes slithered toward her with furious speed. He managed to calm his laughter a bit as he rose from his seat and picked one up by its tail. “It’s only an illusion, my dear,” he said with a stifled chuckle. “See?” He waved his other hand and the serpents vanished in a flash of green light.

The woman placed a hand to her chest and dropped to her knees on the bed. She cautiously peered over the side and pulled up the bottom edge of the covers to properly inspect under it. Once she found everything clear she exhaled a breath of relief. Loki fell back beside her on the bed in another fit of laughter. She, however, was not amused. She bounced from the bed in a huff and headed for the door. Before she got too far away, Loki grabbed her wrist to halt her. “No,” he said with a soft chuckle, “don’t go. I meant no offense, my dear. It was all in jest.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” she all but spat the title out, “but I do not like jokes at my expense.”

He stood so that his frame now towered over hers. He cupped her face in his hands and softly said, “My apologizes, my dear. However can I make it up to you?”

The woman covered one of his hands with hers and screwed her face in puzzlement. “Your hands, my lord,” she replied softly, “they’re… they’re so cold.”

Loki resisted souring his face at the remark. All his life he had heard comments like this by friends and lovers. Even he wondered what ailment he possessed that caused his body to run several degrees lower than other Asgardians. He assumed it was due to some rare sickness that his parents held from him. Never did he imagine that the truth would be revealed to him during a battle with the worst monsters the universe ever chose to create. Never did he think that he would hear his father—no!— _King Odin_ affirm his deepest fear: that he didn’t belong in Asgard.

Loki pushed the thoughts away. There would be plenty of time when he was alone to dwell on his bitterness and hatred. For now his focus was on the lovely creature in front of him. He only meant to tease her a little but now he sought to do more. He ran his thumb across her full lips. She shivered under his touch. Was it due to his chilly hands on her face or an arousing warmth building inside her? There was only one way to find out.

“You are so right, my dear. My hands _are_ cold. Perhaps you can provide them some warmth.” He dropped to his knees and lifted the bottom of her long dress. She shuddered as he placed a hand on her calf. He kept his eyes on her as he slowly moved it up to her thigh then finally placed it between the folds of her lower lips. He chuckled as she gasped. She tried to maintain her composure as he pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed it.

“My-my, lord,” she said between excited breaths. Her resolve was breaking.

“Yes, my dear?” She tried to respond but her words only came out in stutters. “You are so kind to aid me in this way,” he said before slipping one of his long fingers into her wetness. When he did she exclaimed her appreciation and rested a hand on his shoulder. She began to gently rock against his hand. “But you see,” he continued his earlier thought, “this doesn’t help me much.” He removed his hand, causing her to whimper, and stood back on his feet. “There are other parts of me,” he stuck his finger in his mouth and slowly sucked her taste off of it, “that need to be kept warm as well.”

She didn’t speak. She was too enthralled in his actions and the _way_ he spoke. His tone was polite yet also authoritative. Therefore, his words sounded not so much as a request but a command. One that she was more than eager to submit to. She had barely finished nodding her consent before Loki scooped her in his arms and tossed her onto the bed.

He kissed her hungrily on the lips before poking them with his tongue begging for access to her mouth. Once she allowed him access, he sought to capture that devilish tongue of hers but it refused to be ensnared so easily. Oh, how he loved a challenge! He would have her and that tongue subdued in no time!

He waved his hands and in a blaze of green light both of their clothing disappeared. She gasped in shock at her sudden nakedness and tried to cover herself with her arms but he pinned them back to the mattress. He smirked at her before crushing his lips against hers again. Then he trailed his tongue down her chin, neck, right breast, then the left one. The moans she exalted as he licked and sucked on her breasts sounded like a hymnal. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He continued kissing down her round stomach then licked and nibbled her fleshy thighs before finally burying his face in her sex.

“Oh! Dear god,” she screamed as he licked her. That was a nice start but he wanted more praise. He was a god, after all, and gods required their worship. He sunk his fingers into her causing her to arch her back and clutch at the bed covers. Loki moaned against her as his tongue danced between her folds before encircling her clit. None of the food this realm provided—the sweet fruits, the savory meats, the intoxicating wine—compared to her taste. He lapped at her as if he had been starving for millennia. In turn, she thanked him by crying aloud so that her moans echoed off the chamber walls.

Yet Loki _still_ wasn’t pleased. She could do better. He traveled his tongue upward until his mouth met hers again. While their lips were still connected, he entered her slowly. He smiled as her mouth fell open as he sunk himself deeper into her. He started stroking in and out of her slowly at first but soon he began to increase his speed until he found a steady rhythm. Soon the room filled with a resounding noise. Their collective grunts and groans provided the chorus. The headboard banging against the wall and the bed squeaking beneath them helped to round out the ensemble. On and on it went until she eventually reached her crescendo. That was it!  _That’s_  the sound befitting a god!

Loki, however, was nowhere done with her. He twisted her body into any position that entered his devious little mind and had her again and again and again. When she hungered, he conjured up a meal and feasted upon her as she ate. When her energy waned he allowed her to rest for about an hour or so before ravishing her again. It continued on this way for the rest of the day until he (finally) grew tired later that evening.

But Loki’s sexual appetite was far from sated. She was just one person out of many that this realm had to offer. When the wash women came to bathe him, he persuaded them to join him and spent hours driving his cock, fingers and tongue into them. Once he decided to explore his new domain and found himself wandering in the beautiful garden that his balcony overlooked.  He was politely offered a fresh picked fruit from one of the workers—the same one he spied from his balcony just days before. The man was beautiful. His skin was a bronze brown; his eyes were a light shade of blue; and his hair was a thick, wavy shade of sandy brown. Loki surely had to have him as well. Even the elderly nurses weren’t spared. He had a lover for all hours of the day. There was nothing he loved more than hearing his name fall from their lips in ecstasy as he sunk himself into them.

Ultimately he found himself growing accustomed to this place. The inhabitants called it “E Ilyi.” The word, loosely translated from one of the native tongues, meant “the wonders.” Loki thought it a perfectly fitting name. E Ilyi was home of an array of verdant gardens each one filled with unique fruits and flora. Their libraries were stocked with literature of every genre in numerous languages. His paramours had often informed him of numerous sporting activities as well as entertainment opportunities but Loki hadn’t gotten around to seeing them yet. (He was having more fun bedding the palace staff anyway.) In its own way, E Ilyi had become something of a second home to him. Well… Almost.  

He would always consider himself an Asgardian even if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. Yet his heart still bore great resentment towards his family. His nightly terrors aided in this indignation until soon his anger turned into pure hatred. He no longer awoke screaming with sweat hanging on his brow and his heart racing. Now he awoke with a new fire in his belly. As well as a new goal: revenge. He didn’t know how but he would return to Asgard and make them pay for their wrongs. Starting with Thor. He would destroy him and everything he loved. And as King Odin mourned his beloved son, Loki would slay him as well. Those thoughts gave him more pleasure than all the delicious delicacies and the countless lovers E Ilyi had to offer. Once he fully devised a plan, he would let nothing and no one stand in his way.

Loki stood naked on his balcony with a half-empty glass of wine in his hand. He basked in the warm night air and took in the way the stars illuminated the teal blue sky. “My lord,” a deep voice called to him. Loki smiled as his lover—the fruit picker from the garden—held up a bottle of wine. Loki nodded and the man immediately refilled his glass. “Are you troubled, my lord?”

“Some,” Loki replied as he took a sip of the drink. “I’m thinking of my homeland.”

“Where is that, my lord?”

“Some place far beyond the sky,” he said as he signaled to the heavens with his hand. “One day, I shall return there and greet my family with open arms,” he added before pecking the man on the lips. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gently forced him down to his knees. Without hesitation, the man took Loki into his mouth and began bobbing on his length. “Aah…” Loki kneaded the man’s curls in his hand as he bucked into his mouth. “And they will tremble and bow before me…”


	3. All Hail the Queen

For days, Loki paced his room trying to devise a brilliant plan. Every one he formulated ended with the unfortunate consequence of him being either captured or killed by Asgard’s formidable army. He knew that they would fight until the last warrior—even if it took centuries. And while to him a century was the equivalent of a few months, Loki would rather not engage in a lengthy battle. This wasn’t due to laziness but simple logic. Asgard would do well in a prolonged conflict seeing as they are always training new warriors. (A guardian realm must always be prepared, after all.)  Even if their numbers, by some strange fate, _did_ lessen they would, no doubt, call upon their allies. A simple battle would then turn into an all out nine realm war. The only way Loki could defeat Asgard wholly would be to have an army of his own.

But where would he get one? He toyed with the idea of creating an army of clones. The amount he would need to fight against his homeland, however, would be more than he’s ever produced before. Also, maintaining them would take a lot of power. More than he’s ever used. If he were to grow faint, get wounded, or—gods forbid!—die, then his clones would vanish with him; and his effort would be for naught. He needed an army he could control without risking any personal physical tolls.

Perhaps he could use an army of mercenaries. But that brought up the issue of payment. Although once he took Asgard, he could open up the vault and give them as much jewels as they wanted. No. That wouldn’t do either. Mercenaries were notorious for two things: their greed and their lack of loyalty. Loki could pay them so well that their wealth would rival his own as the new king and it would still not be enough. They would demand more and Loki would, of course, deny them which would result in another war. However there was a slim possibility of them being satisfied with their payment; but who’s to say they wouldn’t be enticed by an old enemy and sent after him? Damn the Nine! He needed a new plan!

Just as he began pacing his chamber again he heard a soft, almost inaudible knock at the door. “Enter,” he said without pausing his movements. The door opened and a tall, red-haired young woman entered. Upon seeing her, Loki grinned deviously. She was a messenger sent to him, no doubt, on some important errand from the officials. He had seen her on his explorations of the palace more than once. He had always wondered what glory lay under that un-complementing frock she wore. He wondered if her dewy sex tasted as sweet as the other women he bedded. He wondered if she would scream out his name while he was deep inside her. Although, that didn’t matter much. In the end they all screamed. He demanded nothing less than the highest vocal exaltations.

He walked closer to her. With every step he took forward, she took two backwards. Loki chuckled lightly at her actions. She must’ve heard about his other conquests. If she had then she must’ve also heard that no one could resist his charms. Once he set his eye on you, then you would become his. One way or another.

Loki found the way she played off her desire for him cute. In some ways he preferred a timid lover. He liked the way they blushed and giggled when they spoke to him. He also liked when they made him work for it; made him wait; made him prove himself to them. It was almost like role playing for him. He would be the debonair prince to their virginal maiden. Well, at least until their guards lowered enough for him to seduce them. A kiss on the hand can quickly move up the arm and become a lick on the neck. Just as a coquettish giggle could quickly become a rapturous moan. And a firm “no” could just as swiftly become a hesitant “yes.”

This little messenger was no different from the other shy women he had known. He continued to stalk towards her; likewise she continued to move backwards until she ran into the wall. She reflexively looked back at the wall and mentally cursed her foolishness. His penchant for sleeping with seemingly any person that crossed his path had become infamous around the palace staff. “Do not let him speak for long,” one warned her. “He could convince the sun to cease its shine with little effort.” Loki’s arm slamming against the doorframe brought her attention back to him. He was now mere inches away from her. His green eyes were set intently on her brown ones. Goddesses have mercy! They never told her what to do if he got close!

His eyes dropped from hers and landed on her chest. He smirked at her blessed endowments. He couldn’t wait to feel the weight of them in his hands or to wrap his mouth around them. He licked his thin lips at the very thought. The messenger caught the action and nearly lost her breath. She recounted the many stories about the wonders a tongue like that could do. Things that made her inexperienced ears perk up and caused a curious warmth to generate between her thighs. Things that she hoped her betrothed knew how—and was willing—to do on their wedding night.

“Do you have a message for me, lovely,” he said once his eyes returned to hers.

His voice was low. His simple words somehow sounded like an invitation. But how could that be? He only asked her to state her purpose; yet the _way_ he said it. As if he was caressing each word with that skillful tongue of his. A tongue that she found herself eyeing for too long. “U-uh,” she stuttered with a shake of her head, “yes, my-my lord. I… I…” Her mind went blank. She had forgotten what she was sent to tell him. This was not a good sign!

“Well, my lovely, let me have it.” There it was again! Those simple words being misused by this cunning god. She was a bit naïve, sure, but even _she_ could tell that his words were laced with some hidden meaning. And even if she couldn’t the way his hands were now moving down her hips and thighs made it explicit.

Now was the time to say something—anything!—to save herself from this precarious situation. _Quickly now,_ she told herself, _while he’s still falling to his knees! Do it now before he pulls your dress up any further! Do it now before he—_

She gasped when she felt his mouth press against her lower lips. She shuddered as she felt that dexterous tongue wiggle between her folds. And she swore she saw her ancestors looking down at her in disappointment—a few in pleased curiosity—when, for the first time in her life, she felt an orgasm ripple through her body. She laid back against the wall trying to catch her breath as Loki stood to his feet and licked her wetness off his lips. “Now what was that message you had for me, love,” he asked with a pleased grin. He was going to have so much fun training her to become his new lover!

“The-the queen,” she said between breaths, “wants to see you in the throne room.”

“How soon,” he asked as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. He wondered if this virtuous little morsel had ever wrapped her lovely mouth around a cock. Probably not. _That_ would be the first thing he would teach her.

“Now,” she whispered.

Loki pursed his lips and mulled over the command. It would be wise, and proper, to promptly answer a summons; yet his tongue had now found a taste for this tender young creature before him. _One more nibble and then I shall leave_ , he thought. Without so much as a word, he fell back on his knees and returned his face between the messenger’s thighs.

\---------------

For as long as Loki had been a guest in the E Ilyi he had never been invited to meet with the queen. He had heard plenty about her from the staff, of course, but he had never seen her personally. He wondered what took her so long to call upon him.

The truth was that Queen Naraji thought it best to wait until he was in better health. That way she could inspect him at his full glory. She couldn’t deem him friend or foe until she knew what potential he possessed. Also, she wanted to see how he behaved when left to his own devices. The last visitor they entertained was foolish enough to mistake her kingdom as nothing more than a utopia that could be easily overtaken. She had E Rashini—the warrior army that had greeted Loki on his fall—to bring her his head.

This new guest, however, was much different. He didn’t leave his chamber much except to visit the gardens and the libraries. He never entered into the village to partake in any of the festivals or peruse his surroundings pass the walls of the palace. Plus, he seemed to be disturbingly taken with her staff. (Why, by all the wisdom of the goddesses, he couldn’t patron the local brothel was beyond her.) Her sister, Iriné, thought this to be a good sign. “Surely this means that he has no interest in war, yes,” she had asked once after a meeting with their spies.

“No,” Naraji sternly replied. “You are young, my darling, and have never been to war. Even innocuous actions can hide a malevolent heart.”

Now Naraji sat upon her throne—her face covered by her golden-colored silk hood—and watched her new guest boldly strut towards her. He moved with arrogance; commanding the attention of the surrounding onlookers. _This_ , Naraji thought, _is the gait of royalty_. She longed to know more about him and his story. More importantly, however, she longed to know what his intentions were with her realm. “Halt,” she said. Loki stopped immediately but he tilted his head to one side in an attempt to make out her face under her hood. “What is your name?”

“I am Loki.”

“And where are you from, Loki?”

“Nowhere.”

Naraji sighed in annoyance before exchanging a glance with her sister who stood next to the throne. “It would be in your best interest,” she addressed her visitor again, “to not lie to me.”

“But I do not lie, your majesty,” he said with a bow.

“When you first arrived, you introduced yourself as ‘Loki of Asgard’ to my Rashini. Do you deny this now?”

“No, your majesty,” he replied while mentally counting the number of guards gathered around her throne. “I do not. I simply meant that the place I am from—the place I once called home—is no longer that to me. I am an orphan cast before your mercy.” He quickly bowed again then stood upright once more. He awaited her response but she sat in silence as she considered him.

Oh, he was a clever one! Even worse, he knew it. Clever and arrogant always made a dangerous combination. He stood before her with a pleased smirk etched onto his lips. Had he thought his words had placated her? “Guards,” she called. Suddenly the sound of tens of feet coming to attention echoed off the walls. The noise caused Loki to jump in reflex before he was able to regain his composure. _That’s more like it_ , Naraji thought. If she was going to get any information out of him then she needed to keep him on his toes. He needed to be reminded who was in control. “See our guest to my chambers. I wish to address him in private.”

Loki raised a curious eyebrow before being seized by one of the guards and dragged away.

\---------------

Queen Naraji’s bedroom was large—nearly double the size of Loki’s. While he waited for her to enter the room, he took the opportunity to inspect it. Her large bed sat in the middle of the room. It had posts that went up to the ceiling and the curtains that hung from them were a shear golden color—the same as the hood she wore in the throne room. To the right of that sat a large doorway with glass windows that looked out onto a balcony. To the right of the balcony laid stairs that, Loki found, led down to the queen’s private garden. The garden was twice as beautiful as any other that E Ilyi had to offer. The flowers bloomed in bright pinks, purples, blues and yellows. The grass was a lush green. Loki couldn’t resist reaching down to touch it. He plucked a few blades and inhaled the scent. He smiled warmly before tossing them back onto the ground and continuing his inspection. The garden also contained a small waterfall that ran into a lake. The rich blue-green color of the water tempted him to jump into it fully clothed. (He resisted, of course.)

When he turned to head back into the room, Loki noticed a patio that sat hidden under the shade of the balcony. A round table with two chairs sat in the middle of the patio. It was a good place to sit and admire the quiet, yet overwhelming, beauty of the garden. He pulled out a chair and sat a moment with his ankles crossed as he enjoyed the environment set before him. A god could get used to a place like this.

He sat for another moment before rising and heading back to the bedroom. Once back inside he browsed the bookshelves but didn’t find anything that immediately caught his eye. The room, despite its large size, was pretty much like his. A desk sat near a corner of the room. A fireplace was built into the back wall; a couple of chairs were place in front of it. A designed rug lay in the center of the floor—the image upon it was of two men engaged in a permanent battle. There was a door that led to a wardrobe; another to the bath. A third that was… locked! Loki’s curiosity piqued. Why have a locked door in an already private area? He wondered what secrets the Queen of Paradise held. He also wondered how hard it would be to coax them out of her. A few well crafted words probably wouldn’t work on her as easily as it did the others.

He heard the chamber door open followed by the queen’s voice. “Find anything interesting?”

“Lots,” Loki confessed as he made his way towards her. “What’s behind the door?”

She tilted her head to one side and asked, “Why? Do you think there’s something behind it that could be of great use to you?”

Loki exhaled an airy chuckle. “Curiosity.”

“Oh? Nothing more?”

He answered the question with a soft smile. “Why do you cover your face? What are you hiding,” he asked in an attempt to divert the conversation. It didn’t work however.

“What are _you_? I know you, Loki of Nowhere. I _see_ you.”

“Yes, but I cannot see _you_. Is the hood customary?”

“You hide behind your wit,” she continued, “and your charm but there is something else there. Something…” she moved closer to him and hovered her hand over his heart, “…more. Something… deep. Something… painful. Something that you can’t get rid of.” She felt an odd chill shoot through her and made her shiver. “But you want to,” she added.

Her words caught him off guard. It was a strange feeling for him. He was always in control. _He’s_ the one that could set the most stoic person’s teeth on edge. _He’s_ the silver tongued devil that could weave a tale better than the greatest storytellers. Yet here he stood at a loss for words. Loki didn’t like this feeling. At all. “Who… _are_ you?”

She hooked her hands into the edges of her hood and slowly pulled it back. Once it was lowered, Loki found himself once again without words. Her beauty was awe-inspiring. Her skin was a rich, dark brown. Her eyes were equally as dark and Loki found himself nearly being pulled into them. She wore a floral designed circlet atop her long, black dreaded hair—a simple touch of regality. He had seen beautiful women before but none of them had made his breath shorten. None of them could entrap him with just a gaze.

She took a step towards him and Loki, to his shock, found himself stepping back. “I am,” she started in answer to his question, “Queen Naraji of E Ilyi, first of my name. Daughter of Petuol the Great and Hagae the Wise. And you… should show me some respect.” Although her features were soft and kind, her words reminded him of the power she held. (At least in this realm.) She could kill or spare his life with just one word. He would be a fool to not tread softly. Loki nodded that he understood. “Good. Now tell me again… where are you from?”

“Your majesty, I come from many places. But I swear to you that my words are true. The land I once called home—”

“Asgard,” she interjected.

“—Asgard, yes—is no longer my home.” He turned away from her and moved towards the exit leading out to the balcony. “I’m not sure it ever was,” he solemnly added in a soft voice.

“Where is this Asgard?”

The question made him turn in surprise. “How is it possible that you have never heard of Asgard? Or Yggdrasil, the tree that binds the nine realms?”

“Why are you so surprised? Do you not know that there are worlds that exist outside your knowledge? Worlds that make up a galaxy that extends far beyond our grasp. Worlds filled with unimaginable things!” She licked her lips then added, “Before you fell, Loki, had you ever heard of E Ilyi?”

“No,” he admitted. “I had not.”

“So it seems you have much to learn. As do I.” She walked to one of the chairs and took a seat. She motioned for Loki to join her. Once he was seated across from her she continued, “I have not made up my mind about you yet, Loki of Asgard. There is something about you that I find utterly… fascinating.” He smiled at the word. _Of course she does_ , he thought.

“So what am I to whilst you decide my fate?”

“What you have always done. And in a fortnight, at the feast of Bravoide, I will have made my decision.”

“A fortnight?” She nodded her affirmation. Two weeks for a god wasn’t much time at all. It was a blink of his life. Something so small that it didn’t even register. Two weeks! And there was still much to do. He still needed to gather an army as well as figure out how to leave this realm. (Although if he was denied an extended residence, then the latter concern, in a way, would have somewhat resolved itself.) As clever as he was, the short time limit would not be enough to devise an effectual plan.

He looked back at Queen Naraji. She impatiently sat awaiting his answer. She knew the choice she presented him. Loki could reject her offer and find himself back in that harsh desert he fell into. Or he could accept it and hope to change her mind in the brief time frame. He always did love a challenge. “A fortnight it is, your majesty,” he finally agreed.

“Good.” They both rose. “You are free to leave but please remember: to mistake my kindness for foolishness or weakness would be both on your part.”

“Of course, your majesty.” He added a final bow for flourish. When he arose he headed for the door but was stopped again by the queen.

“One more thing! You are forbidden to engage in any more activities outside of the proper ones with _any_ of my servants. There is a brothel in the city that you are free to visit as often as you like. But my servants are off limits. Do you understand?”

Damn! There go his planned escapades with that tasty little messenger! He sighed in defeat. “As you wish, your majesty.”


End file.
